He kissed her tenderly and caressed her with his hands, treating her as if she were something precious. His touch lingered on her hardened n*pples, gently teasing them, and his hands softly kneaded her br*asts with an almost ticklish delicacy.

“Ah, harder…”

Cyrene, gasping for breath, grabbed his hand. Her body, accustomed to rougher treatment that disregarded her needs, now found itself both aroused and craving more of his tenderness.

It didn’t hurt—in fact, it felt so overwhelmingly good that she felt as though her mind might drift away. Yet, for some reason, tears welled up in her eyes. Ilion’s tongue brushed gently against the corner of her tear-filled eyes before he wrapped her completely in his embrace.

“Does it hurt?”

“No… it feels so good… haaa…”

She realized for the first time that even overwhelming pleasure could bring tears. With Ilion, everything felt like a first. Cyrene clung tightly to his neck, her trembling body pressing against their joined lower halves.

In that moment, she understood what it truly meant to feel completely united. Their bodies fit together seamlessly, without a single gap. Even without rough thr*sts, just the sensation of him inside her made stars burst behind her eyes.

“Ha… ugh…”

As Cyrene panted and tears streamed down her face, Ilion kissed her cheeks and the corners of her eyes over and over. Each time he tenderly stroked her back, as if to calm her, a dull ache pulsed deep inside her lower abdomen.

The tight contractions of her inner walls drew a languid sigh from Ilion. Even the faint touch of his breath against her oversensitized skin felt like a stimulus. As Cyrene’s body trembled, a low, drawn-out groan escaped from his lips.

“Cyrene.”

The sweet, soft whisper melted through her, leaving her body feeling utterly boneless, as if she might dissolve under its warmth.

“Cyrene.”

As if he couldn’t stop himself, Ilion repeated her name, over and over. Just as slowly as he had entered, his p*nis withdrew, dragging along her inner walls with deliberate friction. The sensation of him being pulled so tightly only heightened Cyrene’s *rousal.

“Haah… mmngh…!”

His fingers teased her slightly swollen cl*t while his p*nis rubbed against her inner walls, making her consciousness flicker as if on the verge of being overwhelmed. Her hands clung desperately to Ilion’s shoulders, as though she wanted to hold onto this moment forever.

It was a sensation she wanted to etch into her body, one she longed to experience over and over again. Cyrene’s breathing hitched with a sob-like gasp, her hips trembling uncontrollably as the pleasure surged through her.

Everything blurred together so intensely that Cyrene couldn’t even distinguish whether it was pure pleasure or the peak of ecstasy. Her limbs clung desperately to Illion’s body, her inner thighs trembling uncontrollably. The overwhelming sensations, spreading all the way to her toes, made her eyes well up with tears again.

“Hhic, ah… Ilion. Ilion…”

Even though he was right in front of her, even though they were holding each other so tightly, she felt an ache to see him more clearly. Through tear-stained eyes, Cyrene continued to look at him. His large hands caressed her cheeks, followed by another sweet, lingering kiss.

Instead of the bed creaking, there was only the soft rustling of cloth. Amid this soothing sound, lewd, wet noises and her m*ans mingled, filling the air.

“Ah, ngh… mmngh…!”

Each time his large p*nis withdrew and re-entered, her mind was left in complete disarray, utterly scrambled by the overwhelming sensations. She kissed him, wishing they could become one in every possible way.

She realized that slow, teasing intimacy could feel even better than rough, intense s*x. Clinging to his golden hair, Cyrene moaned like a wild animal, lost in yet another cl*max that she couldn’t even count anymore.

***

“Mmngh…”

Cyrene’s body instinctively curled as if tickled by the lingering sensations. Gentle hands coaxed her back into a relaxed position, while something warm and damp brushed tenderly against her skin, leaving her feeling soothed.

As she struggled and squirmed slightly, her eyes fluttered open, narrowed with drowsiness.

“You’re awake?”

Ilion gave her a slightly sheepish smile.

“I didn’t mean to wake you.”

At his low murmuring, Cyrene buried her face back into the pillow. His careful hands meticulously cleaned her, wiping down even the sticky mess between her thighs and the sweat-soaked expanse of her back and shoulders.

“Get some more rest, Cyrene.”

“…What are you doing?”

Cyrene blinked, noticing for the first time that Ilion already seemed refreshed. His hair was damp as if he’d washed it, and he was dressed in clean sleepwear.

“I just thought you’d feel uncomfortable waking up like this.”

He replied with a small chuckle, using another clean towel to gently wipe her arm.

“Since you’re awake now, maybe you should let me clean your face too.”

He gently dabbed at her face with a warm towel, the soothing warmth melting away the tension in her body. Cyrene felt her muscles relax as she surrendered to the comforting sensation.

“I can just wash up after I wake up properly.”

“That’s true, but wouldn’t it feel nice to wake up all fresh and clean?”

Cyrene rolled her eyes, but gave a small nod. Waking up covered in dried fl*ids was certainly unpleasant – the sticky feeling, the metallic smell, even the way it matted in her hair. She allowed herself to relax as his careful hands wiped her neck, caring for her as if she were something delicate.

The combination of the warm towel and the dry, clean feeling on her skin made her feel sleepy again.

“Come here.”

She murmured, yawning as she pulled him closer. The soft sound of him settling beside her and a faint splash of water accompanied her movement.

“Cyrene.”

Her heart felt warm, tickled by the thought that someone would even think about how she’d feel when she woke up. Was that part of what it meant to love someone? She snuggled against him, burying her face in his chest, which carried a pleasant scent. Her nose brushed against his skin as if seeking comfort.

“If I had flowers,” she said softly, “I’d give them all to you, Ilion.”

She murmured softly in his embrace, his gentle hand stroking her hair and patting her back.

“I like you.”

As she repeated the words to herself, a faint, silly smile escaped her lips. Ilion, hearing her soft laughter, let out a soft chuckle of his own and planted a kiss on her forehead.

“I like you.”

“…”

Her foggy mind cleared instantly. Cyrene blinked, her dark eyes locked with his. Her chest thumped heavily, her heartbeat loud and insistent as their eyes met.

“I like you.”

She said it aloud, letting the words slip out. After all, Ilion had already shown proof of his affection, even if it hadn’t been through flowers. Hadn’t he proven it with his body, his firm *rousal a testament to his desire?

“I like you.”

Cyrene suddenly sat up, her movements sharp and deliberate. Ilion, startled, followed her halfway up, his expression a mixture of confusion and surprise.

“Ilion, I like you.”

At her words, a faint blush crept across his face, much like the countless men who had once offered her flowers. Cyrene climbed onto his lap, feeling the stiffness between his legs already pressing against her.

Somehow, hearing “I like you” felt clearer and more genuine than any bouquet of flowers.

“I like you,” she said again, her voice soft but firm.

Without flowers, how else could she prove it?

A playful smile spread across her face as she began unbuttoning Ilion’s shirt. Lowering her head, she pressed kisses to his lips, then slowly moved down to his jawline and the curve of his neck. Her lips left deliberate marks on his tense chest, almost like sealing a promise, before trailing lower.

As her tongue glided over his well-defined abs, a suppressed groan escaped from Ilion. When she opened his pants, his already hardened p*nis sprang free, lightly brushing against her forehead.

“…Haah, Cyrene.”

He reached up to gently tilt her chin toward him.

“You don’t have to do this. Ugh…”

As if dismissing his attempt to stop her, Cyrene playfully licked the palm of the hand covering her lips. She felt the calloused fingers tremble slightly at her unexpected action.

Taking advantage of the moment, she lowered her head and took the swollen tip of his p*nis into her mouth.

“Mmph… ugh…”

“Ha… ugh…”

The stifled m*ans he let out sounded even more *rotic as he struggled to hold them back. She teased the sensitive slit with the tip of her tongue, circling it before pressing her lips firmly around the tapered base of the head.

She could feel the pulse of his heartbeat through the veins bulging along his p*nis. As she lowered her head further down, her lips tracing his firm p*nis, Illion bit down on his lip to suppress another groan.

“Haah… ugh…”

Cyrene took a deep breath, inhaling deeply as she took him fully into her mouth, savoring the stretch as it reached the back of her throat. The sensation of being filled so deeply, paired with the knowledge that his *rousal was because of her, only heightened her excitement.

“Mmm… mmph…”

“Ha… stop, Cyrene. Ah!”

As he urgently tried to push her away, his c*m spilled out, splattering across her face. The sticky liquid dripped from her skin in thick drops.

“…Ah, d*mn, I’m sorry.”

Ilion muttered, cursing under his breath as he hurriedly used his sleeve to wipe her face clean.

Cyrene blinked in surprise before bursting into laughter. She’d had many men cl*max with her before, but none had ever reacted quite like Ilion.

“It’s fine. Mm—”